


Floating

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Blindfolds, Canon Era, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oblivious Arthur, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sassy Merlin (Merlin), Spanking, Subdrop, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: This casual affection that the Knights have got going with Merlin goes well, until it doesn't
Relationships: Elyan/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Knights/Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Leon/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Percival (Merlin)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 447





	1. Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle in my dudes, I'm back with another fic

Nobody noticed it. Not at first.

This thing had only been going on for a couple of months, lingering touches and brief kisses between Merlin and the Knights that left them all slightly confused. The Warlock certainly didn’t understand the meaning of it, but he was more than happy with the attention, even if part of him craved something more. A relationship sounded silly, when it was quite clear that they were all men, and Camelot did not expect that from anybody, much less the highest in society.

Saying that, Morgana and Gwen were a perfect example of how the rules could be broken.

Anyway, they all knew it was a thing. Some might take it further, would dare to run a hand down Merlin’s back, or perhaps press him up against a wall and make it clear that they were very interested in where this was going.

It never went further than that.

Which was why it took them so long to work it out on this evening.

They were out on a Hunt, an excuse to leave Camelot and spend some time as just the seven of them. Merlin had been complaining for most of the journey, partly because he loved to wind up Arthur, but for the most part just missing the security of Camelot. Still, as evening fell, he quickly changed his mind.

The privacy meant that the Knights were more open in their affections, Elyan ruffling his hair when he spooned out stew, Percival’s quick kiss, the way Gwaine patted the space on the log beside him. Each were easier without the whole of Camelot watching, more likely to reach for him. Personally, Merlin adored it.

He’d never intended on falling in love with them. He wanted to keep it as strictly fun, as a way to relieve stress when they needed to, but he knew that would never happen. From the moment they first showed an interest in him, Merlin was gone, unable to stop the inevitable descent into the warmth that radiated whenever they were around.

Tonight was no different. The wine loosened their tongues, sharing it while swapping stories over the fire, Merlin moving between them and settling down for attention. Lazy touches, the way that each would stake a claim over him in a way that never failed to make Merlin’s heart quicken. He purposefully skipped over Arthur, watching as the King got more and more frustrated that his Knights were allowed something that he wasn’t.

As he perched on Leon’s lap for the third time that evening, demanding a hand to massage his hair whilst he curled up closer, Arthur finally spoke up.

‘It could be considered treasonous to ignore your King, Merlin.’ The teasing in his tone was underlined with jealousy, with that firm voice that told him he better listen, or else.

Merlin blinked, then slowly smirked over at Arthur.

‘What was that, Sire? I wasn’t listening.’ Logically, pushing Arthur’s buttons was a very bad idea. It usually ended with him in the stocks, or with something thrown at his head.

Instead, Arthur just looked amused.

‘I should take you over my knee for saying that.’ It was meant entirely as a joke, only some of the more perverted members of the group didn’t take it that way. Mainly Gwaine, who kicked out his feet and looked around the fire.

‘I don’t know about you lot, but I think the Princess has got the best idea.’ As ever, when ideas took hold in the group, they waited for confirmation from each Knight before looking at Merlin.

Merlin, who was so incredibly turned on, but also aware that he wasn’t willing to submit to Arthur so easily. Arthur patted his lap invitingly, leaning back but leaving the choice up to him, and the Warlock sighed.

He might as well let them get it over with. The idea would never leave, otherwise.

A series of cheers sounded as Merlin stood up, shuffling over to the King and ignoring the way his cheeks were darkening by the second.

‘I hate you.’ He muttered, very non-sincerely as Gwaine whistled at him.

Arthur’s grin was close to feral, gesturing to his lap like he had all the time in the world.

‘Don’t keep me waiting, _Me_ rlin.’ After just a moment of hesitation, he slowly sunk down to his knees, letting Arthur’s hand guide him over the King’s lap.

Quite frankly, it was the most embarrassing position he’d ever been in, and Merlin was almost ready to abandon the entire idea.

Then Arthur’s hand was on the small of his back, making the Warlock jump slightly.

‘Relax. I’ll only go until you say stop.’ There was a challenge in his tone that Merlin picked up on, so he gritted his teeth and kept his eyes down, very aware that if his hips moved too much they would be flush against Arthur’s thigh. That wasn’t a problem at the moment, but…

The first hit came down hard, Merlin yelping as a hand connected firmly with his arse. He vaguely heard Arthur tutting, before the King was rubbing the skin gently.

‘Count them.’ The Warlock paused, trying to figure out why all his blood was currently rushing south, before realising that Arthur was waiting.

‘One.’ He said it cheekily, rolling his eyes even if Arthur couldn’t see.

The hand came back down, faster than the first, pushing Merlin closer to the muscular thigh he was bent over.

‘Two.’ Less sarcasm, mostly because he was busy concentrating on not making himself look like an idiot.

The next four blows came in quick succession, alternating between his cheeks as they hit down. Merlin counted each one, realised that at some point his voice had definitely lost the hint of amusement. In fact, he was boneless over the King’s lap, not even fighting when the seventh blow came.

‘Eight!’ Merlin heard Arthur chuckle, fingers dipping into the hem of his breeches while the Warlock panted.

He was hard. One movement forward and Arthur would know, all of the Knights would know.

‘Doing so well.’ One of the Knights had spoken, but Merlin couldn’t really concentrate on which one of them it was. In fact, he almost missed the ninth hit, gasping when Arthur’s hand connected with his upper thigh.

‘Nine.’ He could feel tears pricking to his eyes, more from the shock of the pain, rather than anything else.

‘He’s arching back into them.’ Another Knight commented, sounding suspiciously like Leon, and then Arthur’s hand was back.

‘Ten!’ Merlin yelped, rocking up against Arthur’s thigh and then falling very still when the hand on his arse vanished for a moment.

‘You’re enjoying this.’ Arthur’s voice was a mix of amused and impressed, and while Merlin tried to come up with an explanation for the fact that he was dripping inside his breeches, the hand not spanking him gripped his breeches.

Cool air hit his skin, prickling over what he knew would be red flesh as Arthur’s fingers gripped, squeezing as Merlin whined.

‘More?’ Arthur teased, while Merlin tried to remember if there had been a limit on them.

He even dared to look to the side, to find five very aroused looking Knights, all eyes focused on where Arthur’s fingers were dipping between his thighs. No, not all of them, because Gwaine was staring right back at him. There was an unreadable expression on his face, despite the tent in his breeches, but Merlin couldn’t even begin to wonder why he wasn’t watching.

‘Eleven.’ He bit out, Arthur’s hand feeling so much worse when it was on bare skin. He openly rubbed against the thigh he was pressed against, whimpering when Arthur pushed back into his erection.

It was on the twelfth hit that Merlin considered that there might be something slightly wrong. He was still counting, but his head felt rather fuzzy, the compliments and laughter from the Knights blurring in his head as Arthur struck again.

He was still counting. He knew that, and he tried hard to focus back on what he was doing as another hit rocked him forward, a tear escaping before he could stop it.

What exactly had he done wrong? Merlin tried to remember, wondered how mad Arthur could possibly be if they were still continuing. Suddenly, the pressure against his cock didn’t feel very good, in fact, it made him feel sick. He was taking pleasure out of something that was clearly meant for Arthur and his Knights.

‘Seventeen.’ He choked out, hissing when another tear traced down his cheeks.

‘Princess…’ Gwaine’s nickname for the King filtered through, even as Arthur’s hand came down again.

‘Nineteen.’

‘Arthur, stop!’


	2. Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine's got this handled

Gwaine suggested it, knowing that Merlin would tell them if he hated the idea. The fact that the Warlock was willing was a slight shock, but Gwaine settled back in his seat, quite happy in watching the proceedings. Indeed, Merlin had looked especially delectable, wiggling on Arthur’s lap and rolling his eyes after the third hit.

The thing was, Gwaine was more experienced than the rest. He usually bragged about this to great lengths, but that wasn’t his point today. He had been with women and men, had seen just about everything that a person could think of when it came to sex, so he was more than comfortable with the parameters of one taking charge over someone else.

In fact, he’d been thirteen the first time he’d experienced such a thing. A dalliance between two of the stable boys had led to one being strangely sick, and his nursemaid-then-governess had told him that he just needed rest. The boy was ushered away to the village’s physician, wrapped up in blankets and given days to recover from what Gwaine had presumed was sex.

It was then that his nursemaid had explained that it was a thing in the mind of the person, to do with the rush of what happened during sex. Gwaine had adamantly stuck his tongue out, in no way mature enough to listen to the woman he saw as a Mother telling him about what he was slowly figuring out by himself.

He travelled a lot. It gave him the chance to see new things, to meet new people, but sex was a constant that rarely changed. It wasn’t just him that had witnessed such a thing, in fact, others had heard of it as well.

They called it dropping. One Physician had tried to tell him it was because of the sudden fall in all those strange things going on inside of the brain, and Gwaine was inclined to believe them. He’d seen the aftermath, and what could happen if it was left untreated. It was why Gwaine always made sure to play gently with those he’d have to leave soon, only daring to stray outside the norm if he could make sure the person was well cared for after.

By the sixth hit, Gwaine was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Merlin was enjoying being bent over the Princess’s lap. His cheeks were flushed, hips turned away so they couldn’t see how hard he was in his breeches, and when Gwaine caught sight of the dark in his eyes, he figured that Merlin might find a little joy in pain.

Not that he was judging. Quite the opposite, from the speed in which his breeches tightened, and he shifted back to watch. The others were doing the same, ogling the manservant/sorcerer in awe and chattering away about how cute he looked. More than one pressed a hand to their groin when Arthur shoved down the back of Merlin’s breeches, the King sounding amused that Merlin was pressed up against his thigh.

Maybe it was experience, or the fact that Gwaine had always read Merlin better than the others, but the Knight knew that something was wrong. It wasn’t obvious, Merlin was still arching into the slaps as they came down, still whining and squirming in the King’s lap so beautifully.

Gwaine knew Merlin. He’d known him for a while, the risks he’d take to keep the Princess safe, the things he did with his Magic that he’d never tell Arthur about. The fact that the King thought Merlin could only perform basic Magic, that he’d been learning from Morgana, was proof enough that the Warlock liked to stay in the shadows. He never sought out praise, or affection, despite so clearly wanting both.

Arthur had told Merlin that they could stop at any time, which for most people, would be fine. On the eleventh slap, Gwaine considered the fact that Merlin was so used to giving everything to Arthur, that this might not be any different. That he’d run himself into the ground before disappointing his King.

Merlin had looked at him, met his gaze, and Gwaine had held it. He studied each and every feature, diving past the obvious pleasure and trying to work out if they’d stepped over a line.

At fourteen, a tear leaked out of the corner of Merlin’s eye.

Perfectly normal, for this situation. But Merlin had been stabbed, tortured, burned and cursed so many times, and had always come bouncing back. Gwaine’s body tensed, eyes darting down Merlin’s body and noting that the boy had gone very limp.

The nausea came at the sixteenth hit. He watched it happen, the panic in Merlin’s eyes that the Warlock quickly tried to hide as he rocked back, attempting to not rut against Arthur.

‘Seventeen.’ It was choked out, bitten off at the ends in a way that had Gwaine’s arousal dying, just because he could recognise that something was wrong.

‘Princess…’ He began, and it was the final proof he needed.

Merlin’s head didn’t turn, there wasn’t even the slightest quirk of his lips at the nickname that had befallen his King.

‘Nineteen.’

‘Arthur, stop!’ The King jerked back like he’d been wounded, confused and slightly angry as Gwaine dashed from his seat just in time to pull the Warlock out of Arthur’s arms.

He didn’t get a very good hold, but it was enough for Merlin to throw up without it ruining Arthur’s clothes.

‘Easy, shh, that’s it.’ Gwaine scolded himself for letting it get this far, rubbed a hand down Merlin’s back while Arthur looked…

Horrified. Guilty.

‘Why…’

‘I need blankets. Water. Stoke the fire up, and see if you can find something sugary.’ Merlin had stopped being sick, but he’d gone suspiciously limp in Gwaine’s arms.

‘Merls?’ He was still hard, as well. Gwaine rolled him over gently, saw the glazed look in Merlin’s eyes as he numbly sat there, tears tracking out marks on his face.

When his eyes eventually focused, Gwaine had expected the anger. Technically, he wished it was aimed at Arthur, seeing as he was the one that hadn’t noticed the signs. But it wasn’t, it was aimed at Gwaine, who just so happened to be the one to figure out what was happening.

‘Get off me.’ He started fighting, panicking, but Gwaine noted that his eyes remained confused blue, rather than vindictive gold.

‘Merlin… ow!’ It didn’t mean the Warlock couldn’t hit, Gwaine actually managing to lose his grasp on his friend as Merlin rolled out. He stumbled to his feet like a new-born colt, backing away towards the trees like he’d try to run.

‘Stay away from me.’ Merlin bit out, Gwaine holding a hand out to stop Arthur going for him

‘Merls, it’s okay. This is perfectly normal, it’s called dropping. You’ve heard of it, right? Gaius must have told you.’ He prayed that the Physician had, and sure enough, a glimmer of recognition crossed the Warlock’s face.

‘Dropping?’ He questioned, unaware that his body was trembling and he looked to be moments away from passing out.

‘Let me take care of you, okay?’ Merlin was an affectionate person. He’d learned that over the years he’d known him, knew that it was the Warlock’s weakness.

‘I… I don’t… I’m…’ He paused, lifting a hand to his cheek and then startling when he realised it was wet.

‘Crying?’ Merlin finished, confused, and Gwaine grimaced.

‘I’ve seen you cry before. No judgement here.’ Merlin’s eyes darted back up to him, wary, so Gwaine pushed forward.

‘Remember that time we snuck out of Camelot? Stole two of Princess’s horses, went hunting that rogue sorcerer?’ He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be spilling secrets, but Merlin was listening, and allowing him to take a step closer.

‘You got hurt.’ Merlin pointed out, shuddering again.

‘Nothing like you did, mate. Bleeding from just about every limb you had.’ Merlin flashed a quick smile at that, while Gwaine tried not to think about how many times Merlin had been hurt without them knowing.

‘I took care of you then.’ The moment Merlin’s hands dropped, Gwaine closed the distance, letting the Warlock slump into his arms.

‘S’okay, I’ve got you.’ He promised, determined never to let go.


	3. Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's confused, Gwaine's teaching, and the others are just along for the ride

Nobody asked. Not until Merlin was tucked under his chin, dutifully drinking from the waterskin that Gwaine had in his hand. He was wrapped up in a blanket, eyes wide and confused, but fighting the fatigue washing over.

‘You can sleep.’ Gwaine promised, but Merlin was nothing if not stubborn. He blinked back the exhaustion, trying to wriggle from Gwaine’s grip, but the Knight kept him steady.

‘Not tired.’ It was childish, but meant to hide from the fact he was trembling again.

Gwaine should have known that for someone like Merlin to give his life to someone, to put his pain in someone else’s hands, it would need rules.

‘We’re going to set up some rules.’ Gwaine began, making sure his voice carried to the rest of the group. Once Merlin was asleep, he’d explain everything to them, but for now, his priority was the Warlock.

‘Rules?’ Merlin croaked out, eyes flickering warily.

‘The first is a word that you can use if you don’t want to tell us to stop. You can pick it, whatever makes you feel safe.’ Merlin didn’t trust it. Gwaine could understand that, in all the time he’d known Merlin, the boy had never taken his own pain into account. He ran head first into danger, without consideration for his wellbeing, so what would one word do?

‘Although I suppose it does take a lot of courage to use the word…’ That had him perking up, the fact that it might not be weak to tell them to stop.

‘Just a word?’ Merlin questioned, fingers picking at the hem of the blanket.

‘Any word. You say it, we stop.’ Gwaine was firm on this point, because it was the one rule that needed to be properly established.

‘I just say it?’ He was still doubting it, but the look in his eye told Gwaine that he was on the right tracks.

‘It’s about trust. We trust you to use the word, you trust us to respect it.’ The Warlock paused, letting Gwaine bring the waterskin back to his lips. Hydration, one of the things that would help the drop end quicker, along with the sugared fruits that the Knights had donated.

‘Ealdor.’ Logically, it made perfect sense. It was the first thing that came to Merlin’s head, the sanctuary of his home village.

‘Ealdor. Now we all know it.’ Gwaine gave a nod to the rest of them, even if his eyes didn’t waver. Merlin looked content, ready to snuggle back into his chest, but Gwaine wasn’t quite done.

‘If you can’t talk, for whatever reason, I want you to do this.’ He took his three fingers, excluding the thumb and pinky, tapping it against Merlin’s arm. The Warlock watched, then looked up to him in confusion.

‘Anywhere?’

‘Any skin you can reach. Or hold them up, we’ll know to stop.’ He’d never actually had to do this stage with somebody. Usually words and gestures were established, things that were agreed before he even tumbled into bed with someone.

Merlin decided that it was acceptable, nodding, albeit hesitantly.

‘Now, you’ve got two options. You can sleep this off, and we’ll head back to Camelot at first light,’ Leaving the hunt early was the guarantee, he wasn’t changing his mind on that, ‘or I can work you back up, with what we’ve just talked about in play.’

He knew what he thought was best for Merlin. Sleep. But the Warlock had to come to that decision on his own.

The war going on inside his mind was clear, the need to sleep versus the desire to start whatever Merlin thought he’d ruined. Gwaine needed to say so much more, to assure the Warlock that he hadn't done anything wrong, that none of them had, perhaps him aside. But it was too much for him in this state.

‘Sleep.’ Gwaine almost lost control of the smile that crossed his face, proud that Merlin finally listened to what his own body needed.

‘Okay. Do you have a preference on who you sleep with?’ Drops meant that people needed affection, even if they didn’t think so. Gwaine knew this, but he also knew that Merlin probably wouldn’t pick him. That was just because he was stubborn, even in this state.

‘Lance.’ That was expected, the Knight looking startled before quickly offering out his arms.

**

His head hurt. In fact, his entire body ached, especially his arse. The ride back was filled with a silence that didn’t break, not even Gwaine spoke.

Merlin had messed everything up.

He wasn’t even sure what happened last night, just that his head had become fuzzy, and then Gwaine had been there. Gwaine, making rules for a thing that wasn’t ever going to happen again, because he was too weak to keep up with the Knights of Camelot. Sleeping next to Lancelot had been his last taste of such luxury, melting into the embrace of one of his closest friends.

Camelot was a welcome sight, the sounds of the people bustling around taking over every other thought in his head. Finally, they reached the Courtyard, and Merlin dismounted his horse in record speed. He was ready to run, to hide up in his room and pretend none of this ever happened, but Arthur was quicker.

‘Merlin, I expect you to bring dinner up tonight.’ Usually, that meant dinner for the both of them. It had started a while back, first with overloading Arthur’s plate, then two plates.

Merlin knew that wasn’t what he meant tonight.

‘Yes, sire.’ He hated the title on his tongue, wanted to snap or to roll his eyes, but his back bent before he could stop it.

Gaius didn’t have the chance to ask what had happened, because Merlin was in his room in a heartbeat, slamming the door shut between them and locking it with Magic.

Crying was a good relief. Silent tears, save Gaius hearing, and he eventually tried to roll over onto his back, only to remember that his arse was in no way ready for weight to be put on it.

Gods, he’d messed up everything just by wanting Arthur. By wanting to impress, by wanting to be theirs for once, rather than somebody they’d eventually forget about.

In the end, Merlin really did wish that he’d never gone on that stupid hunt.

**

Arthur’s eyes strayed over the words, never pointing out that Gwaine’s handwriting was far too neat for a supposed peasant-born man. The Knight couldn’t even begin to care that he was showing them all his own personal recounts of the people he had met; notes from the physician’s that he’d ran into. Direct quotes, his own observations, some written in multiple languages as they’d been translated.

‘So, you’re saying Merlin… dropped.’ It wasn’t a question, just the Princess trying out the word on his tongue.

‘It makes sense.’ Leon finally concluded, straightening up while the others looked at him in confusion.

‘He’s always running into danger. Putting that into your hands has got to be hard. I could never do it.’ Leon pointed out, shrugging like the entire thing made perfect sense. Gwaine flashed him a thankful smile, then looked back to the King, who was beginning to comprehend.

‘But what if he doesn’t use the word?’

‘He will.’ Gwaine assured him, more worried that Merlin would be doubting everything that happened last night. Blame, guilt, they were powerful things.

‘I presume you’re taking the lead tonight?’ Elyan asked, taking one last look at the book, before his gaze met Gwaine’s.

‘Just to teach.’ He said, waiting for the Princess to agree.

Eventually, the King’s head bowed in acceptance, and Gwaine grinned.

Now, he just had to worry about a certain Warlock.


	4. Praising a Warlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's shown how to act with Gwaine's help

Merlin opened the door without knocking, balancing the tray while trying to work up the courage to try for a casual greeting. Maybe Arthur would magically forget everything that happened in the woods, or even better, just pretend that he had never seen Merlin make a complete fool out of himself. If they never spoke of this again, it would be too soon, he thought.

Arthur, however, was not the only one in the room.

The Knights didn’t startle as he walked in, looking unsurprised that he entered so quickly. Merlin had to grip the tray tighter, for fear of it slipping from his hands, moving over to the table to place it down.

‘I didn’t know you’d all be here, otherwise I’d have brought more food.’ He stared at the one plate, deciding that it would be a great excuse to run away if they asked for some.

Unfortunately, Gwaine was quicker.

‘We were waiting for you.’ Ah, so they were going to bring it up. Was Merlin supposed to apologise? He opened his mouth to do so, but was silenced at the look Gwaine was giving him.

He felt himself shudder as the Knight took a step closer, bit the inside of his cheek to stop his instinctive need to use sarcasm. Another step, until there was very little space between them.

‘I’d like to test the rules we made last night.’ Gwaine’s words made sense, if he split them down, but the sentence as a whole was confusing.

He wanted to test them?

‘With your permission, I’ll bring you back into the headspace of last night, and show you what it can really be like.’ Permission. To hurt him? It was a strange thought, Merlin already panicking as the faint traces of the fuzziness started to take over. Clouding his judgement, wanting him to lay his trust in Gwaine’s hands.

Merlin was supposed to work alone. He was supposed to be by himself, to hurt as the rest of Albion progressed. To stand in the shadows while Arthur became a great King, and to sacrifice anything that was necessary to get him there.

‘Just you?’ He croaked out, warily looking at the others. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, it was just it was easier to believe Gwaine. The Knight had seen some of his scars, had been present when he received some nasty wounds, he would know what pain meant to Merlin.

‘To begin with. If you want us to stop, you just need to use your word.’ He was surprised at how quickly it flashed into his mind, sitting on the tip of his tongue.

They weren’t making fun of him. In fact, they wanted to put him back in whatever mood he’d been in last night. It seemed totally ridiculous, like they were doing such a thing just to make fun of him, and he was ready to say no.

Ready, until he caught Gwaine’s eye again, and saw the honesty in them. The same honesty that was present when they talked about Gwaine’s family, and Merlin’s Magic. An understanding that they’d be friends no matter what Merlin’s answer was.

He was being a coward. It wasn’t the pain he was afraid of, it was what might happen if he did trust someone to control him better than he could control himself.

‘Okay.’ One word, tasting of fear and anticipation and hesitancy that bled away at Gwaine’s bright smile.

‘You don’t need to fear the feeling of flying, Merls.’ His fingers crept out to Merlin’s neckerchief, stepping closer so he could whisper,

‘I’ll always catch you.’

**

Gwaine’s plan was going beautifully so far. There was food for after, sitting on the table while the Knight led Merlin over to one of the seats. It was important that he was in the right headspace, and he clearly wasn’t too sure over the others being in the room. Gwaine suspected that most of his hesitance was because of Arthur, fear of showing him what lay beneath the bumbling manservant.

He was allowed to touch. It took him a while to get used to that fact, letting his hands trail up the Warlock’s arms, before skirting to his collarbone. He’d been with women and men alike, but never anybody like Merlin.

Never anybody he actually wanted to keep.

Finally, after savouring the moment, the Knight reached for the tie on the neckerchief. It came away easily enough, before Gwaine raised it further, felt Merlin tense up.

‘You can use the word at any point.’ Gwaine soothed, waiting to see if he’d be denied. Incredibly, Merlin did nothing but relax into his arms, taking a subtle step backwards into Gwaine. Pleased, he tied the neckerchief around the Warlock’s eyes, wondering if Merlin knew just how incredible he was.

Gwaine had expected to be denied that request. But, with Merlin effectively blind in his arms, he was happy that he hadn’t. He decided to show his thankfulness by kissing along the Warlock’s neck, pausing in particular at a spot where Merlin tilted into it. He could almost forget they were being watched, Merlin in his arms and relaxing with every moment.

The shirt was his next stop, lifting it and watching as Merlin’s arms went with it. His back stayed to Gwaine’s front, hiding some of the more questionable scars that the others would see. It did, however, leave his front open to examination. Gwaine briefly looked up to find Arthur’s eyes wide with shock, focused on the faint burn.

‘Gwaine.’ Merlin’s voice broke him from his stupor, rushing to comfort him. Touch made Merlin pliant, he realised, guiding Merlin to follow him onto the seat. The Warlock was light, perched upon his lap and his breathing heavy, clearly worried about what would follow.

‘This part’s easy, you just have to listen.’ Gwaine couldn’t see Merlin’s chest, but he really didn’t need to. His fingertips found their way to his shoulder, where the faint outline of an arrow-wound could be felt.

The easiest way into Merlin’s mind, was by trust. By understanding, and luckily, Gwaine could do that perfectly.

‘How ever did you manage to run into an arrow?’ The words didn’t matter, all that mattered was the fact that Merlin snorted with laughter, sinking further into his touch.

‘And this one,’ He let his hand drift down to his abdomen, to where the knife-wound remained, ‘I really don’t advise getting stabbed.’ Merlin’s breathing settled, and despite the fact he couldn’t see his expression, he knew Merlin was smirking.

‘What about this one?’ Slightly more dangerous, daring to creep up to the burn on his chest. Sure enough, Merlin’s breathing hitched, while Gwaine explored it.

‘Protecting the Princess from an evil Sorceress? Sounds scary.’ He knew the story. Merlin had told him, while they were out in one of their many tavern trips. It was more dangerous than he was comfortable with, but he wasn’t going to point that out.

‘Gwaine…’ Pleading, but the word wasn’t used, so he continued. Each scar he picked out had a story, but the point was that Merlin wasn’t panicking over the truth being exposed.

Even when Gwaine guided him to turn, so Merlin straddled his lap, the Warlock didn’t stop him.

The Princess just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, gasping when Merlin’s back was exposed. Merlin froze, tensing up and trying to escape from his touch, while Gwaine growled out a warning to the King.

‘Easy, you’re alright, ignore him. Focus on me, _trust_ me.’ Merlin stilled, but his muscles were still ready to flee.

Gwaine’s hand drifted to the parallel marks across Merlin’s back, tracing them slowly. Being whipped wasn’t fun, he knew that from experience, and he wondered why Merlin hadn’t told him about them.

No, he knew why. It was on Uther’s orders, of that, Gwaine was sure.

He opted for the most prominent mark on Merlin’s body, the raised lines of the Serket Sting, placing his hand over them.

‘This was on Morgause’s order, no?’ Merlin shuddered, nodding meekly while he stayed still on Gwaine’s lap.

‘I’ve never seen a man survive a Serket sting.’ Gwaine’s words were the truth, he hadn’t. Then again, if anyone could, it would be Merlin.

‘I’m not a man.’ Merlin sounded stubborn, rather than anything else.

‘Warlock, my mistake.’ Gwaine pecked his cheek in apology, pleased when a flush followed his lips.

Finally, he went to the last one.

‘No.’ That was interesting, not the use of his word, just a simple plea.

‘Say the word, and I’ll stop.’ Gwaine promised, thumb flicking over the base of his neck soothingly.

‘Gwaine…’ Still not the word he was looking for, and so Gwaine continued.

‘I know you’ve been hurt before, Merlin. Tortured, even.’ He waited, searching Merlin’s face for any signs of panic.

Strangely, the Warlock was still trusting him.

‘But this is by far the worst. How did you convince Morgana to come back, after she’d hurt you so badly?’ The Fomorroh, as Merlin called it, sounded terrifying. With the ability to control a person’s mind, shaping his movements and compelling him to kill the King.

Arthur had gone very pale by this point.

‘Wasn’t her fault.’ Merlin mumbled, and Gwaine just had to kiss him briefly.

‘No, but it wasn’t yours either.’ He went to argue, but Gwaine brought his hand down lightly onto Merlin’s arse. Just enough to warn, not to hurt.

‘If you try to blame yourself again, I will take you over my knee.’ It was a warning, and much to Gwaine’s delight, he saw the flicker of a challenge cross Merlin’s face.

Thankfully, he settled back down.

‘Feeling okay?’ He questioned, letting his fingers trace Merlin’s stomach for a moment.

‘Warm.’ A good sign, the Knight decided, before tapping his fingers thoughtfully against Merlin’s lips.

‘Then we’ll continue. Remember, if you want me to stop…’

‘I say so.’ Merlin finished, looking amused despite the fact he was still blind.

‘You’ve got such a mouth on you.’ Gwaine said with a laugh, while Merlin stuck his tongue out. Gwaine was tempted to bring his hand down, but then he had a much better idea.

‘For that, we’ll have to put it to other uses.’ He was pushing his luck, but from the quickly concealed gasp that came from the Warlock, he wasn’t protesting.

Interesting.

**

‘Strip.’

Unlike the night before, Merlin felt safe. Like he was being drowned in a warm blanket, wrapped up tightly. For once, he didn’t have to think about how something would affect him, because it was being done for him.

Gwaine’s word was a command, of that, Merlin had no doubt. It still took him a moment to comprehend it, before he slipped from Gwaine’s lap and halted.

If he faced Gwaine, he’d have to bend over to the others.

If he turned around, he’d be under their scrutiny.

With his decision made, Merlin stayed facing Gwaine, biting his lip as he reached for the tie of his breeches.

The air was slightly chilly, but with the fire roaring in Arthur’s Chambers, it wasn’t unbearable. He lost the breeches, pausing when he reached the smallclothes.

‘Is there an issue?’ Gwaine’s voice was hard, but Merlin knew he was concerned. Gwaine was always concerned, underneath the fake façade that he kept up.

‘No.’ Merlin was just thinking about the fact that his arse was still red from last night, and that there were five other people in the room other than Gwaine.

‘Then continue.’ A part of him wanted to challenge Gwaine, just like he challenged Arthur daily. But he didn’t, if only because he wanted Gwaine to be pleased with what he was doing.

He lost the smallclothes, stood back up and wondered what Gwaine’s expression was. Part of him began to panic, what if Gwaine really was about to turn around and make fun of him? He so easily could, and Merlin knew he wasn’t built like the Knights, nothing like…

‘Beautiful.’ That word was usually reserved for the women of court, for people like Morgana and Gwen, not him.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it yet, tensed up but didn’t say the word.

‘Come to my feet and kneel.’ Merlin was surprised at how quick he was to obey, dropping down to his knees faster than he thought possible.

Gwaine was close enough that he could reach out and touch, but the Knight hadn’t said he could…

He couldn’t help himself. His fingers crept out, dying for the comfort that Gwaine had never denied him before.

A booted-foot pressed down on his thigh, stilling Merlin’s hands.

‘Did I say you could touch?’ He went to retort something snappy, before settling for a smirk.

‘Hands behind your back, Merlin.’ He rolled his eyes, even if Gwaine couldn’t see, but did as told. Let them rest on the small of his back, then cocked his head to the side.

‘Going to bind me?’ The rebellious part of him grinned, while another part worried that Gwaine wasn’t going to be impressed.

‘No,’ He sounded amused, and that was when Merlin realised he really was screwed, ‘You are.’

For a moment, Merlin was confused. Bind his hands? With what?

Then he understood. His body jerked on reaction, trying to pull away, and the word sat on the tip of his tongue.

This was Gwaine. Gwaine, who wouldn’t ever allow him to be hurt. So, if he thought this was the best thing…

Merlin didn’t have to mutter a spell, just concentrated for long enough for a rope to weave itself around his wrists. It felt heavy against his skin, but smoother than the things he’d been bound with before.

‘Perfect.’ Gwaine praised, fingers tracing the edge of Merlin’s cheek. He nuzzled into them, even when they skirted over his lips. Feeling emboldened, he let his mouth open, heard Gwaine’s chuckle as he licked at his fingers.

‘See, you’re a natural.’ Merlin decided the praise was a definite benefit, whined when the fingers were removed.

‘You’ve done well. For that, you can choose what happens next.’ It hadn’t been that difficult, he realised, to obey Gwaine. Some part of him always wanted to sass him, but he felt safe, even if he couldn’t see what was going on.

It was only when he was given the choice that Merlin realised he was hard. He blushed, wanted to move his hands to cover his lap, before remembering they were bound. If he could ask for anything, then…

‘I want to taste you.’ That wasn’t exactly what he’d been planning on saying, and from the rustling behind him, he figured the others were just as surprised.

‘Who am I to deny you, sweetheart?’ Gwaine drawled, and Merlin listened as he slumped down into the chair, legs spreading either side of Merlin’s body. Closed in, but not too much.

‘Help yourself.’ It was an invite, but Merlin didn’t have his hands.

Oh.

He knew his cheeks were burning as he shuffled forward, hesitantly dipping his head closer to Gwaine’s lap. He almost jolted when he felt the heat against his cheek, moving to the lacings of his breeches, biting down on one cord and yanking. Someone in the back was murmuring something that sounded like “holy shit”, but only Gwaine would swear like that.

Gwaine’s hands finally came to help, until a blunt pressure was resting against his lips.

He’d never done this before, but he figured it couldn’t be too difficult. The Knights had bragged about the women and men that sunk to their knees for them, sucking them down, so it couldn’t be too hard.

The taste was strange, but not unwelcome, and he hesitantly licked at it. Gwaine groaned, head thumping back against the chair, so Merlin took his cock into his mouth. It was hot, heavy and leaking against his tongue as he moved further down. His Magic bubbled under his skin, itching to reach out for the Knight, but he restrained it as he pressed his tongue to the underside.

‘Shit, Merls, fuck.’ That sounded good, encouraging, so Merlin tentatively let his Magic move out. It reached for the Knight, curious as it moved over his skin.

Gwaine was panting. His hands fumbled in Merlin’s hair, before dropping to the knot of the neckerchief, yanking it undone so sharply that Merlin almost lost his balance. He blinked up, shocked when he saw just how wrecked Gwaine looked.

He was the one on his knees, but Gwaine was definitely the one submitting now. Merlin smirked, relaxing his throat and trying to focus on breathing out of his nose as he felt Gwaine hit the back of his throat.

It was then that he noted his Magic was visible, tiny golden sparks that danced along Gwaine’s thighs, growing bolder when the hand in Merlin’s hair tightened.

‘Merls, Gods, you need to stop.’ For a moment, he thought he’d done something wrong. Then he realised that Gwaine’s hips were thrusting, and his eyes were wide, body tense like he was ready to…

Ah, Merlin grinned, innocently blinked up while swallowing around him.

Gwaine shouted, his hand shoving Merlin’s head down hard enough that his breathing caught. The lack of oxygen was messing with his mind, enough that Merlin’s body jerked to his own completion without a single hand on him.

He swallowed quickly, licking to stop any from spilling, then sat back onto his heels and looked up.

‘Was that okay?’ Gwaine was blinking owlishly at him, chest still rising and falling heavily, before his gaze darted down to Merlin’s lap.

In the next moment, he was yanked up to Gwaine’s lap, lips against his hot and warm and comforting.

So, he’d done okay.

**

Gwaine watched as the Courtyard emptied for the night, the sun setting over Camelot gradually. It was peaceful, almost like the entire world had stopped just for this moment.

He then looked back into the room, where Merlin was seated on Percival’s lap, being hand-fed dinner as the others chatted away. After Merlin’s first session, as they were ignoring what had happened the night before, each had wanted to comfort him. Cuddles and affection, even the King had joined in.

Well, the Princess had demanded that Merlin sit next to him, and nobody had commented on the bright smile that crossed his face as the Warlock curled up on his lap.

They had a long way to go with learning each other’s boundaries, but for now, Merlin was theirs.

And that was all there was to it.


End file.
